I Wish For You
by Kouji Tenrai
Summary: Rated for topics of death and grief; written in honor of my beloved favorite character, Sirius Black. Harry is sent to Twelve Grimmauld Place one last time to sort through his godfather's things. What will he find?


In loving memory of Sirius Black;  
  
Based on song "I Wish For You", by Jessica Andrews  
  
It was two months after Sirius Black's death. Harry Potter sat on the cold, wood floor of Sirius's bedroom in Twelve Grimmauld Place, rummaging slowly through a dusty old trunk.  
  
The entire house was quiet; precisely the way Harry had wanted it. The Weasleys, with whom he was spending the remainder of his summer, had left him at the house early that morning, knowing that the task of sorting through Sirius's possessions would be a difficult one for Harry. They were right.  
  
Harry doubted, actually, if he ever would have been able to do it, had not Dumbledore said that he would take everything Harry chose not to: some of the things Sirius had owned could be, when disregarded, a danger to the Order, Dumbledore had said. Therefore, Harry had accepted the task grievingly, and tried his best to abstain from tears as he sorted through Sirius's most personal belongings.  
  
Of all he had come across so far, though, nothing was as painful as looking through the trunk that now sat before him. It was filled to the brim with notes, letters, books, photographs, diaries, cloaks, and strange objects that had held meaning to Sirius, and it had been sealed with a most powerful locking charm.  
  
Harry, very carefully, as if he was handling antiques made of extremely fragile glass, picked up several of the papers that lie on top of the pile, and let out a quick breath as his emerald eyes scanned them: they were notes to his father, scribbled hastily during their classes at Hogwarts. Heart beating fast, Harry read them aloud:  
  
"Hey, did Evans just look at me?"  
  
This first handwriting was messy and hardly readable, but Harry knew instantly that it was his father's. His hands trembled as he recognized the handwriting of Sirius below it.  
  
"Get over it, James. I wasn't exactly paying attention, anyway...  
  
"Tonight we meet in the shrieker, right?" (Harry knew, with a thumping heart, that he meant the Shrieking Shack..)  
  
"Yeah, but I think Wormtail has detention...ooh, look, Snivellus is trying to get on Flitwick's good side..."  
  
Harry could just imagine Snape trying to answer a question over the loud sniggering of his father and Sirius, and a sudden righteous anger welled up in him. He put the note to the side, not wanting to think about it, and began to rummage through the trunk again. A short letter signed only with the letter "L"caught his attention, and he began to read, rather hoping it wouldn't be something that angered him again.  
  
Dear Padfoot,  
Everything is working according to plan. Don't worry about Prongs; I assure you, Dumbledore has them extremely protected. We will be meeting tonight at the shrieker. The "keeper of their home" will be chosen at the stroke of midnight. Arrive by apparation and come as early as you like, special priviledge of Marauders. No later than eleven though, 'cause the rest of the Order will be arriving by then. Remain safe, and James says "hi,".  
  
"L" He placed the letter aside, knowing now that the "L" stood for Lupin. His insides were churning with a multitude of emotions - longing, sadness, and utter hatred, to name a few. Hatred toward Wormtail, whom they had chosen that night to be their secret keeper, or "keeper of their home", for betraying his parents; grief towards his parent's death and now Sirius's, and utter hatred toward Voldemort, the reason for it all.  
  
A sound of pitter-patter, pitter-pat upon the roof met his ears. He stood up, brushed off his clothes, and looked out the window. It had begun to rain, and the sun was hardly visible through thick black storm clouds. He guessed it to be around two o'clock by now; he had less than two hours before the Weaslys returned to pick him up. Taking a deep breath and determined to keep his emotions in check, Harry turned back the trunk and continued sorting through it.  
  
Much of what was left Harry had no use for, and no knowledge of why Sirius had kept it, so he left it in the trunk for Dumbledore. Things such as notes, letters, newspaper clippings and photographs he kept, stuffing them into a bag he had brought with him. He came across several photographs of his parents posed with Sirius in what seemed to be a park; several more of the three of them in a Quidditch Pitch, and then one of his father and Sirius, arms around each other's shoulders, smiling broadly without a care in the world; Harry guessed that they were only just out of Hogwarts in this picture.  
  
An hour after he had begun, Harry was nearly finished sifting through the contents of the trunk. Small objects and ripped pieces of paper covered the bottom of it, most of them rubbish Sirius had never bothered to remove. He was just about to close the trunk and seal it again when something caught Harry's eye. In the left hand corner there lay a piece of paper, crumbled and torn, but still readable; on its heading there was a small note scribbled, and Harry recognized the handwriting as his godfather's. He reached down and picked the paper up, straightened it's wrinkles, and read. It appeared to be a page torn from an old muggle book; on it, a poem was written, and the author was marked as "anonymous". Although he strained his eyes in attempts, however, Harry could not understand what Sirius had written. It looked to him that it said "Ro Vang", but that, or course, made not sense. After a moment of trying, he gave up, and moved on to read the poem. It was printed in a simple script, but covered the whole page. It read:  
  
"I Wish For You"  
Anonymous  
  
Time goes by so fast,  
And days they seem to dance  
Into the distance 'till they're gone.  
If I had a map  
To lead you down life's path,  
I'd give it to you,  
But I don't.  
So go on.  
  
Cry hard, laugh loud.  
Be humble, stand proud,  
And don't be afraid of your fears.  
Be careful, be brave;  
Be still but don't stay  
In anyone place for too long.  
Let love break your heart,  
Just be who you are.  
All of this,  
All that there is.  
I wish for you.  
  
Tears in his eyes, Harry suddenly realized what Sirius had written. It said "To Harry". The poem had been like a message from him to Harry.. Unable to restrain himself, Harry suddenly broke down into quiet sobs, clutching his face in his hands. He read it again, and cried even harder. Emotions coursed through him like poison, stinging every vulnerable section of his insides.  
  
After a while, he managed to put it away carefully in his pocket and stood to his feet, breathing deeply. The cry had helped greatly. For the past months he had avoided crying in front of Ron and his family, but now he felt as if a huge weight was lifted from the pit of his stomach. He made for the door, expecting the Weaslys to be there any moment.  
  
His hand reached the doorknob and, wiping one last tear from his cheek, Harry began to turn it slowly, opening the door as though it would fall off it's hinges any moment. Before retreating down the stairs, he gave Sirius's bedroom one final look-over, and something caught his eye that made him draw a quick breath. On the wall beside his godfather's bed, on the left side where Sirius had slept, there hung a mirror. It was exactly like the one Harry had smashed rashly the day after Sirius's death: it was Sirius's two way mirror.  
  
A shiver ran down his spine as he approached it, forsaking any thoughts he had previously had of leaving. For a moment he stood motionless before the mirror, gazing into it with pensive eyes.  
  
"Sirius..." he muttered, reaching out to touch the glass. He ran his fingertips over it thoughtfully, and a tear ran down his face. And then, though it pained him greatly, he said, "Goodbye." A voice suddenly carried from the foot of the stairs, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
"Harry? Harry dear! Are you ready?" It was Mrs. Weasly. Harry blinked back more tears and cleared his throat; he did not want her to know he had been crying.  
  
"Be there in a minute!" he replied, doing his best to make his voice sound normal. And with that, Harry turned and left the mirror hanging there, and walked out of the room and down the steps, wiping one last tear from his cheek. 


End file.
